I liked it.
What hurt was knowing they’d taken every ordinary choice I’d made and turned it into proof that Jake was winning.
On Sunday, I met him at a café.
He looked exhausted.
“I meant what I said to Mom,” he told me. “She won’t be interfering in our marriage anymore.”
“That’s a start.”
“I’ll go to counseling. I’ll do anything.”
“Would you have told me about the money if your mother hadn’t mentioned it?”
He stared into his coffee.
“No.”
“And would you have told me what you promised her before proposing?”
“No.”
I appreciated the answers.
They just couldn’t give me back the years when I hadn’t known what I was agreeing to.
“I believe you loved me,” I said.
Relief flickered across his face.
Then I finished.
“But you loved a future version of me more.”
He shook his head.
“I can change.”
“Maybe you can.”
